


Shackled

by Crownonymous



Series: Whumptober 2019 [9]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Blood, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt, Gaslighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Madarame's shitty parenting, Mild Gore, Minor Injuries, Whump, Whumptober 2019, but only to the shadow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crownonymous/pseuds/Crownonymous
Summary: Madarame's star pupil, one Yusuke Kitagawa, has a Palace.And his Shadow is not what Joker expected.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke & Madarame Ichiryusai
Series: Whumptober 2019 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522484
Comments: 13
Kudos: 125





	Shackled

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9 of Whumptober 2019. First posted on my tumblr, crossposting on AO3

Madarame had been everywhere. There were statues of him, paintings of him, photographs taped to every wall. Madarame’s voice echoed somewhere high above in the shrine. The obsessive desire to please and venerate permeating the very air until Joker suffocated in it.

It had been an accident, discovering that Madarame’s pupil, Kitagawa, had a Palace. It had only been at Ann’s insistence that they even bothered to explore at all. They were still looking for potential targets for the Phantom Thieves’ next heist and maybe, Kitagawa might be their key there. Sheer coincidence and fate’s guiding hand had led them here.

But Kitagawa’s Palace, his Shrine, was far more unnerving than anything Joker had seen in Kamoshida’s Castle.

Some part of Joker still refused to believe that a run-down shack could turn into something like this.

Madarame’s decrepit abode had transformed into a traditional Japanese temple with pointed spires and multiple floors. A torii gate bound with shimenawa served as the entrance to a well-lit foyer. Like any other shrine in the real world, there was an aura of calm in the air, of serenity. Distantly, Akira heard the soft click of a tsuzumi somewhere, along with gentle strums of a shamisen and the rhythmic beat of a wadaiko.

Kitagawa’s Palace was breathtaking.

And terrifying.

The walls of the shrine were vividly painted with moving images. Kanou-style tigers and cranes stalked along the walls. Heavy, ink-lined tides swept over everything and replaced the walls with simplistic landscapes only to have that in turn shift into gorgeous ukiyo-e portraits.

But, Joker noticed, the scenic paintings on the shrine walls showed something more sinister. The paint would depict monsters that writhed in screamed, hellfire ravaging entire forests, demons and ghosts and terrifying pictures of death and ruin. Then it would return to normal. As if the horrors Joker noticed were nothing more than passing thoughts. An insignificant pebble thrown into a tumultuous river, carried by the rapids for a time before sinking to the bottom.

What could Kitagawa’s cognition be like, to have his subconscious depict such a peaceful, colourful place plagued by disturbing imagery?

Panther shivered, stepping in between Skull and Joker. “Do those pictures move!? Ugh. They’re so creepy.”

A breeze blew in from nowhere, rustling the trees and making Panther hug herself for comfort. The wind was cold. Biting. Frigid. Skull grumbled. “This dude is seriously effed in the head. I mean. This entire Palace is just.” He gestured angrily to the walls of the temple, now displaying an angry demon ripping apart the arms and legs of a human. It changed to show a lotus flower floating on a pond. “What kind of person even is this Kitagawa guy?”

Joker steeled himself and stepped forward. “We’ll never know if we don’t take a look around.”

“Right!” Mona chimed in. “Let’s get going.”

And now that they had traversed the inside of the Palace and reached the final room all the way at the top, Joker could confidently say that he absolutely detested every inch of this place. It was beautiful, but wrought with distortions so twisted it was difficult navigating up the shrine at all.

After every level, Madarame’s voice would ring out, harsher than the frigid winds they had to face, sharper than any blade they could ever find.

_ This isn’t good enough. See these brush strokes? Pathetic. Do it again and do it right, or you’ll face the consequences. _

_ What did I tell you!? This piece is fucking garbage! I can’t show this at the exhibition! Is this how you’ll repay after all these years? You’re worth less than nothing. _

_ After all I’ve done for you… You should be grateful that I’m here, Yusuke. Don’t be such a spoiled brat. Now, paint. There’s an exhibition coming up and I want to submit a new piece. You’d do that for me, won’t you? _

On.

And on.

And on.

Joker can’t take any more.

The topmost floor, wrought with a blizzard so cold Panther had to walk sandwiched between Skull and Joker, was nothing compared to Madarame’s voice.

_ Useless. _

_ Again! _

_ Can’t do anything right. _

_ What do I even keep you here for? _

_ Smile for the cameras, Yusuke. You’re my star pupil. What will people think of me if you look like death? Smile. Smile goddammit. _

After Kitagawa, Joker was going to change Madarame’s heart or die trying. Just hearing those words from a man Kitagawa clearly admired made Akira’s blood boil.

“Last door.” Joker looked at his companions. Panther beside him, Skull on her other side, Mona tucked in Joker’s collar where the cold wind would hit him less. All three of them nodded. Joker smiled thinly though his lips felt as though they would fall off.

“Let’s go in.”

The doors to the final room, despite their size, gave way easily. The four of them pushed their way inside and with a thunderous roar, the doors slammed shut. The icy wind howled outside. The inside of the last room, the very heart of the shrine, was deceptively warm. Mona crawled out from Joker’s collar to perch at his shoulder.

“Is that a Shadow?”

At the centre of the square room, was a small Shadow, the size of a human. It wore a sheet white kimono, stained with blood. It knelt facing the door with thick golden manacles around its wrists, the shackles disappearing into the floor. Both of its legs were _ nailed _ down by the ankles. Behind it towered a giant golden statue of Madarame with his hand outstretched.

A ring on Madarame’s right hand connected to the Shadow in the centre of the room. To a collar around its neck, tight enough that the Shadow’s face turned almost as blue as its hair.

“Oh my God,” Panther gasped. She gripped onto Joker and Skull’s arms, trembling. Skull radiated anger. Mona muttered silent condolences for Kitagawa in the real life. Joker just stood frozen.

Kitagawa’s Shadow was literally trapped in the shrine. Even if he tore free of the stake pinning his bloody ankles to the floor, even if he ripped the manacles off, he would forever be trapped in the shrine. Collared to Madarame like a dog.

“This is how Kitagawa views himself. His distorted heart thinks of the shack as a Shrine to Madarame.” Mona’s voice was sad. “Kitagawa must think that he would live and die as nothing more than a glorified pet.”

Sprouting from Shadow Kitagawa’s back were nine bushy fox tails, far too large for his frail, gaunt body to support. Kitagawa had hunched over from the weight of the nine tails with inked tips. The tails painted portrait after portrait, landscape after landscape, and meekly laid them at the feet of Madarame’s statue.

It took an eternity for the Shadow to look up against the weight of its own tails. Its hair was strikingly blue, and snow-white fox ears twitched above its head. It had no eyes. The sockets where the eyes should have been were empty pools of nothingness crying a constant stream of tears. Or blood. Or ink. Joker didn’t fucking know.

And Shadow Kitagawa looked at them with a tormented expression. Haunted by the collar choking the life out of it, by the stakes that had ripped through its very bones, by the manacles keeping it bound to the Shrine, by the weight of its tails that forced it to paint and paint and paint.

“Thieves.” The Shadow spoke slowly, with a croaking voice. It tilted its head this way and that, trying in vain to see the intruders who have desecrated the Shrine. Obviously, it couldn’t see the four of them, and hung its head instead. “Why have you come into this Shrine? This Shrine for the Great Artist Madarame, who had given a lowly being such as myself shelter. Why have you come to steal from such a benevolent man?”

Panther gritted her teeth, fists clenching into a tight ball. “Benevolent? Madarame!? Don’t be ridiculous!” Smoke puffed out from Panther’s lips, a testament to her anger. “He’s using you! Don’t you see Kitagawa-kun? You and all the artists who studied under Madarame are being used for his own selfish gain!”

“The only thing I see is Lord Madarame’s generosity.” The Shadow grasped desperately for air. The collar was made with iron spikes, Joker realised belatedly. The sharp ends dug into Kitagawa’s skin, raining rivulets of blood down his neck, onto his already ruined kimono. “I am nothing without his guidance. All the artists who studied under him were happy to give their souls in his service. We are honoured to be used.”

“Why are you still defending him!?” Skull screamed. “He’s hurt so many people. Countless artists whose hopes and dreams were broken by his selfishness!” Skull’s leg trembled. Panther switched places with him so he could lean on Joker as he fought to remain standing. “Madarame has driven a student to suicide and if you don’t open your goddamn eyes to the effing truth, then you’re going to let countless others be driven to the same fate!”

“LIES!”

The Shadow screamed. It echoed in the walls, reverberated in Joker’s very bones, rattled the whole building. But Kitagawa’s Shadow was not angry. It did not attack. Rather, it jerked its hands up as far as they could go to cover its ears which had folded down. There were red welts around its wrists where the manacles cut into its skin. Kitagawa’s tails were in a frenzy, painting frantic lines everywhere, turning the walls into a discordance of colours and shapes.

“Lord Madarame would never. He’s a good man. He would never!”

It was afraid. It was afraid of facing the truth.

“You knew, didn’t you?” It’s eyes, if it had any, would have been trained on Joker as it snarled viciously. Instead, all Joker saw was hollow emptiness, and a Shadow that trembled at the mere possibility of hearing the truth. “You knew what Madarame was doing all along. But you ignored it.” The Shadow’s tails, all nine of them curled over its body, as though that could protect it from Joker’s words. From the truth. “Why did you hide from the truth Yusuke?”

Quietly, so faint that it couldn’t have been more than a soft whimper, the Shadow said, “Where else am I supposed to go?”

“Oh, Kitagawa-kun.”

“Dude.”

“Kitagawa…”

“Where else am I supposed to go!?” The Shadow’s voice caused the walls to crack. Ink poured out, soaking the Shadow’s tails into a murky black. “Sensei is all that I have. My only tie to a world that has no place for me. Where will I be, if not by his side?”

Blood squirted from Kitagawa’s wrists, his neck, his ankles, and the Shadow howled in pain, in anger in desperation. A prisoner of his own mind.

“I am shackled.” As if to emphasise, the Shadow tried to move. Tried to free itself. The stake which had nailed its legs to the floor kept it pinned.The cuffs binding its wrists echoed with a metallic clink. “There is no hope for me outside of this place. This temple. This shrine to Sensei’s ambition, to his desire… it is the only place where I can exist.”

It sounded desolate. Like the howls of a wounded animal, ensnared in a trap. Like a fox which had tried to gnaw its way out and failed, resigning itself to fate.

If Kitagawa accepted the fact that his teacher, his mentor, the man he looked up to as his father, was nothing but a liar and a cheat, it would shatter the way he viewed the world. Everything would change. Kitagawa would have to live with the fact that he was complacent, meekly obeying everything Madarame ordered and turned a blind eye as one of Madarame’s students took their own life.

“I would leave if I could.”

The statue of Madarame, the one which had sat silently as Kitagawa screamed his throat hoarse, yanked its hand back.

The Shadow yelped, wheezing, pulled in two different directions. It’s neck was blood red now, and the manacles looked ready to cut both its hands off. Kitagawa’s tails flailed wildly.

Madarame’s statue stretched its hand out again and the Shadow collapsed as low as its collar allowed it to. It trembled and hefted its burdensome tails once more to paint.

“Leave, profaner,” said the Shadow. “Leave me to my fate.”

The doors swung open once again, and a glacial wind tore into the room. The Shadow’s kimono did nothing to protect it from the cold and it trembled, muscles seizing, lips turning even bluer.

“I can’t believe this.” Panther quivered as she stepped outside along with the others. “We have to send a calling card. We have to. We can’t just let this happen.” Joker nodded.

They were going to save Yusuke Kitagawa, even if he did not want to be saved. Akira will fucking drag him kicking and screaming into the light if he had to.

  
=  
  


A letter came.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t for Sensei. Rather, addressed to Yusuke himself. It was fortuitous that Sensei wasn’t home to see it.

Yusuke sat in the corner of the atelier like he often did as a child and opened the envelope.

_ Sir Yusuke Kitagawa, _

_ You who have not committed any atrocities in life but have suffered a fate to be doomed forever into the servitude of an unjust man, have turned away from the truth. You have blinded yourself to the verity of the world, and have chosen to shroud yourself in a Shrine of lies. We have decided to uncover that which you have chosen to hide, and expose the truth which you so desperately try to ignore. We will no longer allow you to blind yourself to the truth that lies before you. We will take your distorted heart without fail. _

_ From, The Phantom Thieves Of Hearts _

“What the hell is this?” Yusuke crumpled the letter into nothing more than a paper ball. He chucked it into a bin along with all his other failed ideas. It’s nothing more than a prank. Sensei won’t see it. Sensei can’t see it. Yusuke’s fine. It’s fine.

Everything’s going to be fine as long as he finishes his next piece.

Yusuke’s not going to pay attention to such nonsense. Madarame-sensei would never do any of the vile things he’s been accused of.

Surely not.

He would never.

…

At the highest floor of the Palace Shrine, a Shadow cried out with a broken voice. “Free me.” It howled and screamed and wailed, tails lashing out, chains rattling against the frigid wind.

“Free me.”

_ I would leave if I could. _

_ I want to leave. _

_ Free me. _

_ Let me leave. _

_ Please. _

_ Help me. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know what I'm writing next click over [HERE](https://crownonymous.tumblr.com/sched)  
If you want to stay updated on the progress I've made on my fics click [HERE](https://crownonymous.tumblr.com/tagged/crownonynews)  
And if you want to come say hi or just get bombarded with random posts, you can find me over [HERE](https://landofsaltandshade.tumblr.com/)


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